Of Insensitive Teaspoons and Chocolate Frogs
by ExceedinglyPeculiarChick
Summary: Oneshot. Ron discovers what he will call his "finest hour."


"No, Ron," Hermione moaned, reaching out to grab his wrist before he could put a small box in his trunk, "we don't need to bring our own lightbulbs!"

She and Ron were packing for their honeymoon; they would be leaving for Paris in just under four hours, according to the wall clock. It was incredibly stressful and messy work. There were clothes strewn across the floor, spilling out of Ron's trunk, and piled on every available surface.

"Ron! Hermione!" called Harry's voice from the living room.

"In the bedroom, Harry!" Hermione yelled back.

They heard footsteps outside, and then Harry spoke again from the other side of the closed door. "Should I be scared? What are you two doing in there?"

Ron laughed. "Just packing, mate, don't worry." He stepped across a neatly folded stack of Hermione's shirts and pulled open the door.

Harry's eyes widened as he took in the devastated room. He was holding a Daily Prophet in one hand and a letter in the other, his hair even messier than usual. Most likely, he'd just rolled out of bed. Shaking his head slightly, he shut the door behind him, plopped down on the floor, and reached for one of Ron's shirts to start folding.

"What brings you here, Harry?" asked Hermione, stuffing her toothbrush into a small zip-up bag.

"I just wanted to check up on you. I had to go into work this morning, so I figured I'd swing by."

"We had to work today?" yelped Ron, poking himself in the eye with his wand accidentally.

"Ron, you are off work for the next week. You just got married, thank you very much. I had to work today," said Harry slowly, stressing the 'i'. "And, anyway, it was for a reason. I had to approve something. Look here." He brandished the copy of the Daily Prophet at Hermione.

She glanced down the page. In bold black letters was the headline, "INTRODUCING THE NEW MR. AND MRS. INSENSITIVE TEASPOON!" Beneath that was a picture of herself and Ron wearing their wedding finery. She was pleased that it wasn't actually a horrible picture.

"Classy, Harry. Did you give Kingsley that headline and tell him to use it?" Ron asked, trying to control his laughter.

"Well, he looked at me like I'd gone funny in the head, but he said okay," Harry said with a grin.

"Merlin, I'm going to kill George. 'This reporter talked to George Weasley, older brother of our famous groom, and brother-in-law to Harry Potter. 'It's even more unbelievable that such a sensible woman would marry Ron. I mean, we almost forced her to go to St. Mungo's to be checked for extensive brain damage,' says the notorious prankster,'" Hermione read aloud. She dropped the paper and looked up at Harry. "Slick, Harry. Nice piece."

"Maybe this will have some—er—news at none of our our expenses?" asked Harry, waving the envelope aloft.

"I fervently hope so," Ron sniggered.

Harry opened the envelope and turned it upside down. Out fell three small, shiny, blue-wrapped packages. Hermione leaned down and grabbed one off the floor. "Hey, Chocolate Frogs!"

"Bloody hell, give me one!" Ron growled, eagerly snatching for a Frog. He ripped apart the wrappings, stuffed the chocolate in his mouth, and reached in for the card. "Netwo morbeefor imfinshd findigall," he muttered through the enormous wad of chocolate bulging in his cheek.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Harry politely.

Ron swallowed hard and said, "I need two more before I'm finished finding them all." He finally seized the card from the package and held it up to the lamplight. A look of incredulousness spread across his face.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Harry," Ron breathed, shoving the card at her. He grabbed the Frog Hermione was holding and began unwrapping it too. Meanwhile, Hermione moved closer to the lamp so that she could read the card.

Curly gold letters across the top read HARRY POTTER. Underneath that was a picture of Harry, grinning sheepishly at her from the confines of his purple frame. And beneath that, more golden words read: "Harry James Potter is most famous for twice defeating the Dark wizard called Lord Voldemort—once when he was a year old; again (this time killing him once and for all) when he was seventeen. He is well-known for being the only person to have been subjected to all three Unforgivable Curses and survived their effects. He formed a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group in his fifth year that called itself Dumbledore's Army; this group figured prominently in the Battle of Hogwarts. Mr. Potter enjoys playing Quidditch and spending time with wife Ginny and the rest of his family."

"Whoa. This is beyond cool. This is, like, my finest hour," said Ron, examining what was clearly his own card. "Bill and George'll be so jealous."

"Ha, ha," said Harry idly, examining his own card. "You know, there's really only one question I have about this."

"What's that?" Hermione asked, studying her picture. Personally, she thought her hair looked a lot less bushy than usual.

"Does this frame make my arse look big?" 


End file.
